London
by MadamHazel
Summary: John loves London. So do many other people. Can be interpreted as slashy.
1. John

Title: London

Fandom: BBC Sherlock

Rating: K

Disclaimer: Don't own BBC Sherlock. While I'm fairly certain that Sherlock Holmes in itself is public domain, this particular show is owned by the BBC and created by Moffat and Gatiss, and they're both much better writers than I will ever be. Everything outside the show is mine.

A/N: No specific timeline, just the characters' thoughts. I've got a longer Sherlock fanfic on the way. Also, this is a bit slashy if you want to read it that way. FYI.

John loves London. He's always loved it, ever since he was a kid and his father took him and Harry for the very first time. Harry had complained the whole way, whining about how she was bored and tired of walking, but John had kept silent and stared in wonder at everything about them. The busyness and the noise had entranced him, and he hadn't wanted to leave when they had to go home.

Growing up, John made many trips to London, and each one he had fallen in love with the city even more. And so, when he was honorably discharged from the army it only made sense that he should stay in London. The noise and the bustle calmed him, and he could just walk around the city for hours, even with his leg. His therapist said that it was escapism. He said that it kept him happy. Soon, however, his money was getting tight and he was going to have to leave London soon. And that's when he met Sherlock.

Sherlock showed him the true London, the dark underbelly that John had always suspected but never had contact with. John found that you really didn't understand London until you were chasing a cab down its back streets in the dead of night, or tracking Chinese smugglers' graffiti in the cold of the night at abandoned railway tracks, or sneaking through a homeless camp trying to find a giant assassin.

So now John loves London more than ever, but not because of the people, or the bustle, or even the criminals he chased down dirty alleyways. Now he loves London because it reminds him of Sherlock.

A/N: So, what do you think? I may add more people as the mood and opportunity hit.


	2. Sherlock

A/N: So now here's Sherlock's point of view. I would also like to point out that I know absolutely nothing about London. Nothing at all. Also, slight spoilers for The Great Game.

Sherlock, though he'd be loath to admit it to anyone except maybe John, loves London. When he was younger he would draw maps of it all over the walls, exasperating his mother to no end and causing Mycroft to exploit his 'mature older brother' status. Unlike other boys his age, Sherlock wouldn't read adventure stories or comic books. He'd trace road maps of London and read the histories of crimes that had occurred there.

So when it had come time for him to, with a great sense of relief, move out of his mother's house, it was only natural that he'd go to London to start his business as a consulting detective. And it was then, starting out as young and immature, that he found the side of London that he loved most of all. The crime.

It was in London that you could find all of the sordid woes that make up the basic nature of humanity. The wife cheating on her husband, the single parent struggling to handle six kids, the cocky young student, the doddering old man, they were all there. And the brilliant thing was, they were all committing crimes against each other.

A good consulting detective could find a lifetime's work here. Fortunately, Sherlock was not merely a good consulting detective. He was a great one. And so, Sherlock carved out his business piece by piece, getting to know the ignorant, the intelligent, the rich, the poor, the policeman and the criminal and everything in between, and he didn't care about them. He only used their grief as a means to an end, their tragedies as an amusing puzzle.

And then John came along and changed everything he knew. He was sure John didn't know this- he didn't notice much things, not like Sherlock did with such ease. But now Sherlock found himself noticing things he hadn't before, like the fact that people's lives were on the line every time he did a case. He noticed when John got a cold from racing around the streets that Sherlock had memorized as a kid, and noticed when John never once wanted to leave.

London also brought forth Moriarty, which reawakened Sherlock's love for the city. So, he pursued the game and stopped caring once again about the people, because finally he had found someone who love the city for the same reasons as much as he did.

But as soon as John stepped out at the pool with a bomb strapped to his chest, the game, the city and everything faded away and nothing else mattered but saving John.

Sherlock loves London and hates it, because it brought him John, who made him care.

A/N: There's more on the way, I promise. It might take a while.


	3. Mycroft

Disclaimer: Don't own BBC Sherlock. While I'm fairly certain that Sherlock Holmes in itself is public domain, this particular show is owned by the BBC and created by Moffat and Gatiss, and they're both much better writers than I will ever be. Everything outside the show is mine.

A/N: Well, here's Mycroft. I don't know how many more I'm going to do. I might just work through the entire cast.

Mycroft loves London. Not quite with the youthful zeal of his brother, but with more a sedate appreciation for the benefits of the city. For practicality, the benefits were apparent. A large city, prominent in the world, with lots of people too involved in their own lives to ask silly questions was perfect for a person in his…position.

Also, it rained a lot, which meant he always had an excuse to carry around his umbrella which, though if anyone said anything about it they'd end up mysteriously disappeared, he was rather fond of. The knife in the handle and the poison-injection tip didn't hurt either.

But the fact was, any city would have done. New York was nice, as was Washington D.C. or Paris. It really didn't matter what city he was based out of, his work could be done anywhere. But this city was had one important quality that no other place in the world had: this city had his brother.

Because Mycroft really did care about his brother, though he hid it behind petty squabbles and imperious demands. Though Mycroft knew Sherlock didn't see it that way, the surveillance and calls were a way of making sure his little brother was all right, that he was still alive despite stubbornly clinging to his dangerous profession.

Mycroft also appreciates London because it brought John and Sherlock together. Finally in John Watson he had found a man who loved and cared for his brother as much as he did. For that miracle of happenstance alone, Mycroft was willing to extend his gratitude towards the city. Mycroft loves London, but he loves his brother more.

A/N: Reviews are appreciated. No, really. I mean it. I will love you forever.


	4. Lestrade

Disclaimer: Don't own BBC Sherlock. While I'm fairly certain that Sherlock Holmes in itself is public domain, this particular show is owned by the BBC and created by Moffat and Gatiss, and they're both much better writers than I will ever be. Everything outside the show is mine.

A/N: Just this and Moriarty, and then I think that's it. I'm breaking the formula just slightly here- I hope you can handle that. XD

Lestrade hates London. His idea of the perfect place to live is in the country, in a small cottage with a garden of vegetables and herbs with his wife by his side. But his work comes first, as it always has, and so he moved in London because that's where he works best. With every murder, rape, assault and mugging Lestrade hated the city a little bit more, and he felt his spirit being dragged down into the mire and scum of humanity.

He felt, as the years crept on, that he was just one man against the criminals of London. He knew it wasn't true, but still for every crime he saw he took personal responsibility for. His wife saw him get more haggard and drawn every day, but they both knew there was nothing they could do.

And then Sherlock Holmes had breezed into his crime scene one day and turned everything he knew upside down. Suddenly, though he didn't know why, everything didn't seem quite so hard anymore. He could hold his head up just a little bit higher, keep his shoulders just a little bit straighter.

But Sherlock alone wasn't exactly a comfort. While his genius was contested by no one (even Anderson and Donovan grudgingly admitted that the man was brilliant), his attitude made everyone who interacted with him irritated, humiliated, and generally at a loss with the world. It was getting so bad that, even though he solved every single case he was involved in, after a while almost everyone refused to work with him.

Then John came along, and it all changed again. While the change was small, it was evident in the way everyone conducted their affairs. While no one still liked Sherlock, they would agree to deal with him if John came along. John softened Sherlock, in a way that Lestrade didn't think either of them realized. So Lestrade hates London, but he appreciates that it brought the world John Watson and Sherlock Holmes.


	5. Jim

Disclaimer: Don't own BBC Sherlock. While I'm fairly certain that Sherlock Holmes in itself is public domain, this particular show is owned by the BBC and created by Moffat and Gatiss, and they're both much better writers than I will ever be. Everything outside the show is mine.

A/N: Ta-da! The last one. This one has huge-o major spoilers for The Great Game, so if you haven't seen that yet, then what are you doing reading fanfic for this series anyway? Go watch it, and then we'll talk. Also, this chapter has some language.

Jim loves London. So many people to play with, so many people's lives to ruin, so many crimes to commit…he feels like a kid in a candy shop. Or a big fat spider, sitting in the middle of his web, twitching a strand here and a strand there to entrap his food. But those are clichés, and Jim's affection for London goes much further than cliché.

You see, there are so many people who are _bad_ in London. I mean, really nasty, nasty enough to kill and lie and cheat and work for Jim. He delights at putting them against each other and then ripping them apart, and playing with their lives.

Another reason he loves London is, of course, Sherlock Holmes. Dear, sweet, naïve Sherlock. The only person who could remotely match Jim on his own level (besides his brother, whom Jim had a vague awareness of, but that's another story). Obviously Sherlock could never fully match up to Jim's intellect, poor thing, but it was fun to see him try.

Jim would occasionally set up little games for Sherlock to battle against, nothing important, but enough to keep himself entertained. It was so funny, the way he ran around trying to look for the spider behind the web. But then another factor entered into the equation- Doctor John Watson.

The only thing more fun than Sherlock Holmes is Sherlock Holmes with John Watson. Sherlock Holmes with a _heart_. It was almost too good to be true. Now Sherlock had _weaknesses_, something Jim could exploit to the fullest extent.

He played with that stupid little bitch Molly and got all he wanted to know about Sherlock's movements. He played with all those bombs, those petty little cases that were worth expending just to see the _look_ on Sherlock's face. See, that's why Jim loves London. It's just. So. Much. Fun.

A/N: Reviews are appreciated, thank you very much. ;)


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